


Paths of Honor

by Awnestee



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friendship, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Iroh (Avatar) loves Tea, Minor Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Slow Build, Slow Burn Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Weapons, Zhao survives the North Pole, long road trip, season 2 zuko, with all his angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26203549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awnestee/pseuds/Awnestee
Summary: After getting separated from her friends, Katara joins Zuko and Iroh on a trip to Omashu. Canon divergence beginning during The Siege of the North, when Zhao survives and joins Azula to work against Zuko and the Avatar. Basically, Katara goes on a road trip with Iroh and her sort-of-enemy Zuko and they start to sort-of tolerate each other.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, fellow fanfictioners!
> 
> This will be my first published story and my first attempt at AtLA fic, but I'm very excited to work with these characters. Just a couple of notes, to help you decide if this story is for you:
> 
> \- this will ultimately be a Zutara, but it will likely be lot slower and quite a bit cleaner than some of the Zutara stories we normally see. I think the love aspect of Zutara is often left out in favor of, well, steam. I really want to explore a Zutara friendship and realistic romantic transition
> 
> \- the story will not just rehash the events from the show. Many places and people will reappear, but aside from this chapter (which is just set-up for the rest of the story), things are very different
> 
> \- the idea with this fic was to change one thing—Zuko saves Zhao—and then see how things go from there. I hope that I can remain true to all the other characters.
> 
> \- I will probably involve a lot of Zutarian cliches... but they will always look a little different here. For instance, we have the "Katara capture!fic," but Zuko isn't her captor.
> 
> \- unlike some fics similar to this, I will do my best to keep Zuko true to his actual season two character. At this point, he's still very confused and angry, and prone to hurting the people who love him. As much as I adore season 3 dorky sarcastic Zuko, he has to go through a lot before he can be that guy.
> 
> Please read and review! Criticism is wholly welcome!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, fellow fanfictioners!
> 
> This will be my first published story and my first attempt at AtLA fic, but I'm very excited to work with these characters. Just a couple of notes, to help you decide if this story is for you:
> 
> \- this will ultimately be a Zutara, but it will likely be lot slower and quite a bit cleaner than some of the Zutara stories we normally see. I think the love aspect of Zutara is often left out in favor of, well, steam. I really want to explore a Zutara friendship and realistic romantic transition
> 
> \- as for the rating, it is K now and may change to T later. I can guarantee zero swearing, mature content, and total gruesomeness, but I think the interest level overall will probably be teens, so we'll see.
> 
> \- the story will not just rehash the events from the show. Many places and people will reappear, but aside from this chapter (which is just set-up for the rest of the story), things are very different
> 
> \- the idea with this fic was to change one thing—Zuko saves Zhao—and then see how things go from there. I hope that I can remain true to all the other characters.
> 
> \- I will probably involve a lot of Zutarian cliches... but they will always look a little different here. For instance, we have the "Katara capture!fic," but Zuko isn't her captor.
> 
> \- unlike some fics similar to this, I will do my best to keep Zuko true to his actual season two character. At this point, he's still very confused and angry, and prone to hurting the people who love him. As much as I adore season 3 dorky sarcastic Zuko, he has to go through a lot before he can be that guy.
> 
> Please read and review! Criticism is wholly welcome!

"You rise with the moon... I rise with the sun."

Zuko hauled the boy up by his orange collar and left the waterbender lying unconscious on the crumbling ice.

Hours later, Zuko watched the Avatar wake. His ridiculous tattoos glowed blue, and when he opened his eyes, they emanated light, but quickly dimmed to gray and childlike. He seemed confused by his restraints, but then his gaze fell on Zuko.

"Welcome back," Zuko huffed.

The boy's eyes narrowed. "It's good to be back."

Before anything else could be said, Zuko felt a gust of air hit him in the chest, and all the air in his system was knocked out as he slammed into the cave wall. Foolish child.

He leaped to his feet and snatched the wriggling boy by his collar again. "That won't be enough to escape."

But then the boy's eyes lit up, and Zuko turned to see that... that stupid flying behemoth and the blue-cloaked waterbender sliding to the snow.

Zuko felt his patience snap like a severed cord. He tossed the Avatar aside. "Here for a rematch?"

Her voice exuded confidence as she replied, "Trust me, Zuko—it's not going to be much of a match."

The snow and ice rose at her command, and Zuko's world went dark

And when he awoke, it had been tinted by blood.

He escaped from the sky bison and confronted Zhao, while the white-haired girl and Iroh did something with the fish in that pool.

He was gaining the upper hand—he had beaten Zhao before and could do it again—and the North Pole turned blue and white again.

Zhao's expression thrilled Zuko. "It can't be," Zhao said.

Zuko didn't know what exactly had happened to the moon, but he was sure it involved the Spirit World and balance and a multitude of other things Iroh would gladly give lectures on. So he wasn't surprised when a huge hand-like shape reached up and started dragging Zhao off the ice bridge

One less enemy, was his first thought. Then he saw the momentary flash of terror in Zhao's face.

For reasons he did not understand, Zuko reached out. "Take my hand!"

Zhao looked angry, and Zuko was sure he would refuse. Gut impulse alone made Zuko lean forward and grab the man's arm.

Zuko still didn't know what made him save Zhao.

He thought about telling Iroh, as their raft floated away from the Northern Water Tribe.

Iroh looked at him. "I'm surprised, Prince Zuko, that you are not at this moment trying to capture the Avatar."

"I'm tired."

They were the only words he could speak. He'd lost three battles that day. First against the waterbender, then against himself by saving the enemy. And now he was leaving his prize behind in the wreckage of it all.

Iroh nodded. "Then you should rest. A man needs his rest."

***

Days later, at General Fong's fortress, Katara stalked away from her best friend.

After all this time, all the work they'd put in to help Aang learn the elements—the way he was supposed to—and now he was just going to throw it all away for a quick path to power! Heedless of how hurting himself hurt them, too. Hurt her.

She'd retreated to her room, but she found the distance unsatisfying. She needed to get out. Get fresh air.

As discreetly as she could, she left her room and slipped out of the fortress. One of the guards caught her gaze as she passed, but he turned away as if he hadn't seen, and she nodded in thanks.

The sun was just starting to set over the expanse of land, and Katara felt her ability growing stronger. It was amazing how much water was all around her. The earth, the air, the wispy silhouettes of clouds against the orange sky. She released a pent-up breath. Yes, this would calm her.

Then, a hot, rough hand clamped over her mouth and her world went dark.


	2. Chains

“We’re taking the prisoners home!”

As much as he had expected it, the words twisted a knife in Iroh’s heart. He didn’t have to _see_ to know the shock of pain that crossed his nephew’s face. And he didn’t see, because he had already turned on the guards.

He heard Zuko shouting, evidently going after Azula, but now Iroh was immersed in combat, and couldn’t break free of the guards to go help. Zuko would have to fight that battle himself.

Iroh blasted two more guards off the walkway and detained another in a ring of fire. He looked up to see Zuko charging toward Azula, daggers of fire in his hands. The confrontation looked _right_.

But it couldn’t happen now. “Zuko, let’s go!”

Wrestling the guard off the walkway, Iroh looked up again to see Azula neatly dodging Zuko’s furious attacks. He could only hope that Azula would refrain from striking back for the time being.

“Well, well,” said a cold voice from the staircase. _Zhao_. He stood, a shadowy figure against the dark opening. But not one figure. Two. A smaller, bluer shape was beside him, her hands bound in chains which Zhao held above her head.

Zuko had turned toward Zhao and done a double-take. He did another, recognizing the waterbender. Azula slipped behind Zuko. “Guards,” she said, perfectly composed, “arrest the banished prince.”

Iroh sighed, knowing the battle was lost, despite the lack of restraints on his own person. Zuko was yelling, shouting, spitting fire in his indignation. Nine guards surrounded him, clapped his hands into full-coverage cuffs, and chained his ankles loosely together.

Azula turned a smug gaze to Iroh. “Well, Uncle. Shall they chain you, too, or will you come of your own accord?”

Iroh looked at Zuko, and at the Water Tribe girl Zhao held. He said, “I will come peacefully.”

* * *

Katara’s rage boiled when Zhao took her out of her prison cell.

It simmered as he held her, helpless, to show his power before Zuko and Iroh.

It burst when she was shoved back into the hold and she tumbled across the slimy metal. She would have bruises tomorrow.

Stumbling to her feet, she threw herself at the bars. “You—you vile, despicable... _monsters_! You... _argh_!” Her words felt like stabbing something with a stuffed sword. Entirely unsatisfying. Weak. Pathetic.

“You shouldn’t be yelling.” The voice was cracked and hoarse from the bearer’s own shouting. Zuko sat slouched against the cell wall, arms crossed over his chest. Iroh was not in the cell with them.

“Oh, so that swearing you were doing earlier was an excellent example of hushed conversation, was it?” Katara sneered. “Why shouldn’t I yell?”

Zuko glared up. “Who knows when they’ll bring you water.”

Katara turned away. That was true. Zhao was unlikely to give her access to much water. If any. The thought scared her more than she liked.

She slid to the floor, making a conscious effort not to let her face crumple into a pout. She would not act like Zuko. “Why are you here?” she asked instead.

“Azula.”

The name was familiar, but Katara wasn’t sure why. “You mean that crazy firebending girl? Why does she hate you?”

“She’s my sister.”

 _Oh_. Katara wasn’t sure if Zuko was defending her against the _crazy_ description or offering an explanation for the animosity between them. Either way, it seemed horrible to have that kind of sibling relationship. “Is she trying to capture the Avatar, too?”

Zuko averted his eyes. “Probably. I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter, does it?” His voice rose in antagonism.

Katara quelled her anger. Despite everything—despite her hate for this prince and the nation he stood for, despite her mother’s death and her own imprisonment—they were together behind these bars. They would both escape. “Show me your hands,” she said.

He met her gaze with guarded eyes, but slowly lifted his arms. They were well made, and obviously created to prevent any sort of firebending. If Zuko summoned any fire, he would only burn himself. His feet were bound together, presumably to keep him from kicking fire like he often did.

Why had they gone to such lengths to stem Zuko’s firebending, yet had only wrapped Katara’s wrists together? His bending wasn’t much stronger than hers, if at all. Katara studied her own chains, lost in thought.

“Zhao’s never seen you waterbend,” said Zuko. As if he could tell what she was thinking. “Not since you found a master. And you’re a girl.”

“Excuse me?”

Zuko’s eyes widened a little. He caught himself, stuttering. “I mean, that’s how Zhao thinks. _I_ don’t think... I mean, look at Azula. And you beat me. Twice.” He raised his eyes to the sky. “Could you—do you think you could get out?”

Katara took a moment to process the garbled sentences. Yue, this prince was awkward. She looked at her shackles. “I think I _could_ ,” she said.

“But...”

Katara jutted her chin around the room. “I don’t see any water.”

Zuko looked thoughtful. Still angry, but thoughtful. A blaze of anger ran, unprompted, through Katara’s veins when she looked at him, so she looked away. For now, they needed each other. That meant she couldn’t afford to hate him right now.

There was a clang, and voices came from the corridor.

“...understood the situation more fully...”

“Save your breath, old man.”

A masked guard came into view, a bedraggled Iroh in tow.

“Uncle,” cried Zuko, his eyes wide with the question, _are you okay_ , and Katara glimpsed not for the first time the depth of his relationship with the old man.

The guard shoved Iroh into the cell and slammed the door. Iroh kept his gaze downward as the guard left, then looked up, eyes alight. “What have you planned?”

No wasting time, then. Zuko blinked as if he was confused, too. “Uncle... we can’t firebend with these cuffs, and even Zhao wouldn’t be stupid enough to give a waterbender water.”

“No water? Well, that would be a problem.” Iroh’s eyes twinkled, and Katara was reminded of the days when her father would surprise she and Sokka with special gifts or treats, and he would act clever and secretive all day until he could reveal it.

“It _is_ a problem, actually,” she said. “I could maybe manage to gather some of the condensation on the walls, but that would only be a few drops, at most. And with my movements so constricted, it might take days for me to cut through just one chain.”

Iroh’s expression did not dim. “I do not think we have met formally. Miss Katara, is it?”

Katara opened her mouth, closed it, then said, “Yes.”

“I am Iroh, as I’m sure you know. And this is my nephew, Prince Zuko.”

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Katara said. “Several times, actually.”

Zuko glowered. Iroh grinned.

“About the _water_ , Uncle.”

“Yes,” Iroh said. He took on a lecturing tone. “Unlike firebenders, waterbenders do not create their element from something within them. Instead, they guide water from the world around them to do their bidding. But what many waterbenders do not realize is that they do still carry water with them.”

Katara realized what he was saying a split second before he said it, and her mind reeled with the implications. “The body. The body has water in it.”

Iroh nodded. “Yes, Miss Katara. Sweat, blood, tears—our bodies rely on water, so they contain water. And during emergencies such as these, I believe a talented waterbender may use this water.”

Katara swallowed. She was suddenly aware of these things. The spit in her mouth, the dampness in her eyes, even her pulse. Yes, there was water there. She could feel it. And if she could feel it, could she manipulate it?

This opened a whole new line of questions. Suddenly, Katara was overwhelmed with it all. Her quest, her imprisonment, these new responsibilities, and this power she didn’t know if she wanted. She wanted to curl up like an armadillo lion, safe in a protective shell, free to feel as she wished... just to forget about the world for a few minutes.

Instead, she closed her eyes and braced herself. “So... what do you want me to do?”

“I would not ask a poised young lady to exert herself in the way we need.” He turned to his nephew with a grin. “Prince Zuko, would you do the honors?”

***

After the better part of an hour, Katara had nearly enough water to start working on her shackles. Of course, the water came with a price.

Zuko’s face was red with exertion as he finished another set of pull-ups on the cell bars. He had performed dozens of exercises at Iroh’s direction but only broke into a sweat a few minutes ago. He had stripped off his shirt, and Katara pulled a few measly drops of water from the fabric. 

She had expected him to put the shirt back on, but he hadn’t, and now Katara kept her gaze fixed at a point somewhere between the floor and the ceiling. She, Aang, and Sokka had become comfortable enough with each other to change and swim together, but life in the South Pole rarely called for undressing publicly, and she wasn’t used to seeing so much bare skin.

Every few minutes Zuko paused, bare chest heaving, so that she could strip the saltwater off him and add it to the orb floating above her lap. 

Katara occupied herself by not thinking. She didn’t think about Aang’s selfish determination to enter the Avatar State. She didn’t think about whether Sokka and Aang had left the fortress and continued the journey. Nor about whether they were looking for her. Or if she even _wanted_ them to be looking for her.

She _definitely_ didn’t think about whether she was allied with this shirtless firebender and his eccentric uncle, or whether she was just biding her time until they could escape and part ways. Or if maybe she had misjudged the duo. She didn’t think about the threats Zhao had made before the other prisoners arrived, and how much they terrified her.

In short, by the time Zuko had produced enough water (Katara was _not_ thinking about the fact that it was indeed Zuko’s sweat) to form an orb the size of a fist, she was so tired of not thinking about things that she wasn’t sure she had the strength to waterbend for the hours that the project required.

But with Iroh’s cheerful encouragement, she managed. It also helped that Zuko was so exhausted he collapsed in the corner and didn’t breathe another word.

A few hours later, a guard came by to toss three bowls of gruel onto the cell floor. Katara collected the water back into an orb behind her back until the guard left. By the time Iroh and Zuko had finished eating, her right hand was free.

The next shackle went much faster without her movement so restricted. She took a break to eat, and when the guard came to bring their next meal, both Katara and Iroh had to hide their free hands behind their back.

* * *

The next morning, a guard led a gray-haired man and a young waterbender to the deck of the ship. The man and the girl were both chained.


	3. A Fight Won, a Fight Lost

The helmet smelled like sake and burnt rubber, the uniform had been fitted to a much taller man, and there was a pebble in his boot.

How did a pebble even get in the boot? They were on _ship_ , for Agni’s sake!

The ship had docked at a port near Gaoling at sunrise, and Iroh said that this would be the perfect point to escape from.

“From here, we can get supplies, then all travel to Omashu together.” He had sounded far too cheerful for Zuko’s taste.

“Why would we go to Omashu? We’re not going to Omashu.”

“The Avatar is headed to Omashu, and Miss Katara would like to reunite with her friends, I’m sure. And you will hunt the Avatar. I think Omashu is exactly where we should be going.”

Katara’s brow lowered suspiciously. “How did you know Aang was going to Omashu?”

“Now that he has mastered waterbending in the North Pole, he needs an earthbending teacher, doesn’t he? And the king of Omashu is the best earthbender alive.”

How in Sozin’s name did Iroh know the king of Omashu? And where had his helpful skills of deduction been when Zuko was hunting the Avatar?

Now, leading Iroh and the waterbender up the stairs to the deck, Zuko had several questions, few answers, and one goal—get off Azula’s ship.

He peeked out at the deck.

“How many guards are there?” Katara asked.

Zuko closed the door, careful not to make a sound. “A few. More importantly, I don’t see Azula or Zhao.”

Iroh frowned. “Unfortunately, we do not know if that is good or bad.”

“Azula’s presence is never good,” Zuko said curtly. “Now listen. We might be able to get all the way to the dock without any questions, but if not, the story is that you’re being transferred to a more secure prison on Azula’s orders—they’ll be less likely to question Azula’s orders.”

“And if they ask where you are?” Katara said.

He hadn’t thought of that. When coming up with stories, it was best to stay as close to the truth as possible, so he said, “Azula has something special planned for me.”

* * *

Ty Lee was about one quarter of the way through a fantastic day.

Her circus troupe had been in Gaoling for a week, entertaining dusty Earth Kingdom nobles and their unattractive bachelor sons. Ty Lee loved the circus. She loved her strange and expressive friends and she loved traveling the world.

But she loved her old friends, too. And she had never in all her long life of a whole fourteen years thought that Azula would come to find her. When she had joined the circus, she’d assumed that if she saw her friends and family again, it would only be because _she_ went to _them_.

When she had unrolled the scroll from the messenger hawk, she had been surprised and delighted to see Azula’s familiarly slanted handwriting.

_Hello Ty Lee,_

_My ship docked near Gaoling last night, and I would so love it if you would join me for tea in my cabin. We have so much to catch up on, don’t you think?_

_Azula_

The lack of any title before her signed name was what proved its authenticity to Ty Lee. Azula’s position as the princess was so obvious, so _her_ , that she did not need any formal recognition.

_I can’t believe you’re here! I’ll be there soon._

_Your friend,_

_Ty Lee_

She set off right after the messenger hawk. Azula’s Fire Nation warship stuck out among the flimsy Earth Kingdom boats like a puma goat among koala sheep—unassuming and vaguely threatening.

Three figures stood on deck. One was obviously a guard. The other two followed closely behind, a short man and a girl dressed in blue.

As Ty Lee drew closer, she saw the chains dangling from their wrists. Prisoners? She had just reached the base of the gangplank when another figure entered the scene.

“Ty Lee,” Azula crooned. “How wonderful to see you. Would you do me a favor and incapacitate these three hooligans?”

Right as she said this, the guard and prisoners sprung to action, shedding loose chains as they moved. The guard flung his helmet away, and Ty Lee saw…

 _Zuko_? He was so much taller now, and he had shaved his head so his Phoenix tail was much more prominent. Between that, the scar, and his oversized guard uniform, he looked absolutely ridiculous.

Ty Lee thought all of this mid-aerial. She landed on the ship’s side of the gangplank with no noise and approached the short man. “General Iroh?” she exclaimed.

He was preoccupied shouting something at Zuko. “You will not win yet, nephew! Save this fight for another day.”

Zuko was preoccupied charging at Azula, who waited for him with a smug smile drawn across her face.

So, Ty Lee occupied herself by turning around and rendering the girl’s arms useless with a few sharp jabs. A wall of water that Ty Lee hadn’t noticed crashed to the deck, swiping her feet out from under her and sending her over the bulwark into the dark sea.

* * *

The wave knocked Zuko off his feet, and he slammed into the bulwark.

Someone shouted something, but Zuko’s ears were ringing and he felt like someone had compressed his brain. When he stood, his vision was foggy.

Flashes of light—red and blue—and the dark mass of the smokestacks. A shrill cry.

Then the world slowed for a moment and Zuko’s vision cleared.

A blast of blue fire was streaking toward him. He dove out of the way. He somersaulted to reduce the impact and landed on his feet. His vision was still spotted, but the ringing in his ears was gone.

“Would you dare to injure your own brother’s daughter, Uncle?” Azula was saying. Her back was to the water and Iroh stood in a firebending stance aimed at her.

Where were Ty Lee and the waterbender?

“You would imprison your own brother,” Iroh said. “I do not wish you harm, Azula, but I will protect Zuko.”

Zuko rankled at that. He didn’t need protection. But between Azula and Iroh, Azula hurt his pride far worse.

“Uncle. Let’s go.”

Azula tilted her chin up. “Yes, do go. I can’t beat both of you together—I’m no fool. Just go and leave that pretty little Water Tribe girl here to greet Zhao when he returns and sees you’re gone.”

Iroh hesitated.

“Let’s _go_ , Uncle.”

Iroh sighed, and they left.


	4. Saved

“Stupid… savage… _peasant_!”

Zhao punctuated each insult with a jerk of the chain, yanking Katara across the floor. Her arms already ached, since the numbness from the acrobat girl’s hits was just wearing off, and each jerk felt like her arms would tear in half.

 _Thank Yue we’re already downstairs_. Zhao was angry enough that he would have kicked her down them had the opportunity arose.

They reached the cell, and Zhao forced her in with a kick to her shoulder. She bit back a cry—less at the pain and more at the humiliation. She would never forgive Zuko for this.

The wave had knocked Katara and the girl in pink overboard. Her arms had been limp, like noodles. She kicked desperately to keep her head afloat, but she’d never been taught how to swim—she’d used a combination of paddling, floating, and waterbending—and the water kept closing over her face.

 _I’m going to die in my own element_ , she thought. Then an arm wrapped around her waist, and the cheerful acrobat pulled her ashore.

When they had boarded the ship again, Zuko and Iroh were gone.

Zhao strung her chains through two loops on the wall, effectively preventing her from moving her hands at all. A string of insults—most referencing _hideous monster_ , _Fire Nation filth_ , or _sideburns_ —ran through her mind. The murderous glint in Zhao’s eyes kept her mouth shut.

“Try your little waterbending tricks now, girl,” spat Zhao. “And until we figure out how you escaped, you won’t be getting a thing to drink. So if I were you, I’d save every drop I could scrounge.”

That day was one of the longest Katara could remember. If only Iroh were here to talk to. She felt guilty, thinking that. How could she wish an old man into prison? But his company—and even, she had to admit, Zuko’s antagonism—had kept her entertained for the long hours in the prison cell.

She had to get out of here. She could only guess that Zhao and Azula planned to use her as bait to capture Aang. Assuming she’d already been imprisoned for three days—her best estimate—a ransom message could reach Omashu any minute.

After what felt like hours, the acrobat girl appeared, still dressed in pink. Katara tried to pack all of her anger into the glare she shot at the girl.

“Sorry if my hit hurt you earlier,” the girl said in a chirping sort of voice. “Usually chi blocking is painless, but I was distracted by Azula and the fight and Zuko’s ponytail. I’m Ty Lee, by the way.”

Katara blinked. Did she just… _apologize_ for blatantly attacking? “Katara,” she replied.

Ty Lee’s smile shouldn’t have been able to fit on her face. “Oh, that’s a beautiful name! And I almost forgot. I brought you dinner!”

Ty Lee presented what appeared to be a fist-sized lump of coal.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Ty Lee’s eyes flicked to Katara’s cuffed hands. “Sorry. I can uncuff you while you eat, but I’ll have to take your bending away first.”

This time, when Ty Lee jabbed her pressure points, her arms didn’t go completely limp, but a sick feeling rose in her stomach, and Katara knew that even if she had water, she wouldn’t be able to bend.

The lump of coal turned out to be a roll of soft, warm bread. Katara tore into it with relish, eating until the burnt exterior crumbled into dust.

Ty Lee cuffed her again with a sad smile. Katara didn’t meet her eyes. _She’s trying to help me_ , part of her mind said. But the other part said that this girl was her enemy. Ty Lee was Azula’s ally, not hers.

But when Ty Lee disappeared from Katara’s line of sight, panic swelled in her chest. How many hours would it be before she saw another person? Would Zhao come next? Worse, Azula?

Her throat tightened. She couldn’t think about all that. No, she should sleep. She tried to settle on the floor, but then her arms fell asleep. After shifting around on the hard stone, she found that kneeling kept her high enough to keep blood flowing to her hands.

Slowly, painfully, sleep came.

***

When Katara was traveling with Sokka and Aang, she had always been the first to wake up.

She wasn’t naturally an early riser, but the tasks of the day created an urgency that prodded her awake every morning. She would wash and dress, then formulate some sort of meal from the supplies they had.

Aang would wake an hour after. He was always cheerful in the mornings. He chatted with her while she made breakfast, and eventually either the smell of food or a few kicks to the sleeping bag would wake Sokka up, and the day would begin.

Back home in the South, Gran-gran woke Katara with soft, encouraging words.

Neither urgency nor Gran-gran woke Katara this time. Instead, it was the low creak of her cell door opening.

Then, a sharp _sching_ of metal. Blood rushed into Katara’s fingertips as her arms dropped to her sides. She tried to scream, but a gloved hand clamped over her mouth.

In the darkness of the cell, Katara made out a figure crouched in front of her. His—or perhaps her—clothes were black and hard to distinguish in the dark. And instead of a face, it wore a grinning blue mask. The hilts of two weapons jutted out from its back.

The figure lifted a finger in front of the mask’s mouth in a _shh_ motion, then took the hand away.

“What are you doing?” Katara hissed.

The figure motioned at the open cell door.

“You’re letting me go?”

A nod.

Katara swallowed. “Okay. Lead the way. Just watch out for a sociopath with blue fire.”

There was a huff, almost like a muffled laugh, from under the mask.

The figure led her out of the cell and up the stairs. Katara marveled at how silently his—he seemed masculine—footsteps fell in the echoey corridor. Her own steps thundered in comparison.

The ship was quiet. Everyone was probably asleep, although Katara assumed there were watchmen around. But they met no people or obstacles as they crept across the deck and over the gangplank onto solid earth.

“What happened to the guards?” Katara asked. The figure didn’t answer. She rephrased. “Did you incapacitate the guards?”

Another nod.

He pointed at Katara, then pointed down the shore.

“You want me to go that way?”

Nod.

“You’re going a different way.”

Nod.

She hesitated for a second. She needed to get to Omashu. If she’d had Appa, the trip from Gaoling to Omashu would be nothing. On foot was a different story.

And she didn’t have Sokka’s affinity for maps or Aang’s hundred-year-old knowledge of the world. She felt very alone.

Then she headed off in the direction her mysterious savior had pointed in.

After a few steps, she glanced over her shoulder. She could just make out the figure. He was running toward the city, his dark outline growing smaller as he faded into the night.

Katara turned and ran after him.


	5. Boxes

Zuko peered into each alleyway as he passed.

The streets were dark and unnamed in this part of Gaoling. He knew approximately where he and Uncle had made camp, but he’d forgotten to count how many alleys he’d passed heading out, and was paying for that slip of the mind now.

He’d slipped into one of the first alleys he passed to shed his Blue Spirit disguise. Now he felt very exposed. Gaunt white faces at every corner, following his movement with hungry eyes set Zuko’s stomach rolling. With guilt or disgust, he wasn’t sure.

Was the entire Earth Kingdom like this?

Why wouldn’t these miserable peasants just give up on the war and surrender? Their lives would all be so much better.

Finally, he saw golden light leaking from one of the alleyways and sighed with relief. He turned into it. Uncle sat there on his bed roll, tending to a small fire pit—evidently dug only hours ago.

Uncle looked up. “Did you have a nice outing, nephew?”

Zuko grunted and flopped onto his bed roll.

“Would you like some tea? Or supper?”

“I’m not hungry.” Zuko rolled to face the wall.

He heard Uncle shift. “Are you upset because of Zhao, Azula, or Katara, Prince Zuko?”

Zuko flipped back over. “All of them. All of it. I just keep failing, Uncle. Nothing I do is good enough.”

The admission blistered. He shouldn’t have said that. It was one thing to be weak. Another thing to admit to weakness.

Uncle’s eyes twisted in sympathy. “On the contrary. Everything you do is just a little too good.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Just leave me alone. I’m going to bed.”

He turned over a final time and shut his eyes. But sleep didn’t come. So instead he watched the firelight dance across the tiny quartz crystals in the rock wall and breathed in the cool night air.

He woke when he heard the clinking of ceramic and the drone of hushed voices.

 _What?_ There was something wrong with those sounds, but his sleep-addled mind couldn’t place what. He groaned, rolling over.

And snapped to attention.

“What… how are you here?” Zuko said.

Katara’s blue eyes blinked at him. “I found you this morning.” She opened her mouth to continue, then seemed to change her mind. “I escaped,” she finally said.

Zuko stared at her, mouth open. Did she know? Had she followed him? Then why didn’t she say so? Why tell them she’s escaped rather than been rescued?

No, she couldn’t know. She must have found them by chance. But he couldn’t settle under her gaze.

“This is wonderful,” Uncle said. “Now we can travel to Omashu together. Two are certainly better than one.”

“I would make three,” Katara pointed out.

Uncle chuckled. “Well, if two are better than one, three must be the best of all.” He offered tea to Zuko, who gruffly refused, and to Katara, who politely accepted.

“Why would you travel with us,” Zuko asked, “when we could be tricking you? Aren’t you scared that we’ll use you as bait to capture to Avatar again?”

Katara met his eyes unflinchingly, and he did his best not to squirm. “I don’t think your uncle should be included in that _we_. And I’m not afraid of _you_ , either.” Her eyes flicked up to his head. “ _And_ I think that your new haircut is significant. I assume it’s not just that you suddenly came to your senses and realized that the ponytail wasn’t working for you.”

Zuko swallowed, wanting to punch her and bury his head in the ground at the same time. He rubbed his hand over his scalp, which was now totally bare but for an awkward diamond-shaped patch at the crown of his head. He had cut off his Phoenix plume last night and burned it, just before he went to rescue this ungrateful little peasant. It had always been an annoying haircut, liable to be grabbed or pulled, and shaving his head took up a lot of time.

There was no need to do that anymore. His honor was so thoroughly devastated that there was no point trying to maintain a symbol of his dishonor. He wasn’t just dishonored anymore. He was a criminal in the sight of his nation.

“In the Fire Nation, the topknot is a symbol of honor and family ties,” Uncle told Katara in his lecturing voice.

“In the Water Tribe, our men wear a wolf-tail in times of battle. The younger ones shave the sides of their heads, too—does the Fire Nation do that?”

Uncle glanced at Zuko nervously. “Ah, no. In the Fire Nation, men often shave their head after losing a battle. Or a duel.”

Katara glanced at Zuko questioningly. Why couldn’t they leave him alone!

“So the ponytail thing means you’re… leaving the Fire Nation?” Katara asked.

“We evaded capture from an admiral and the princess,” Uncle replied. “We are fugitives of the Fire Nation now.”

Zuko was glad Uncle had said it, because he couldn’t have.

Katara’s brow furrowed. “But if you’re not with the Fire Nation anymore, then… whose side _are_ you on now?”

“On _our_ side,” Zuko snapped.

Uncle placed a hand on his shoulder, which he shrugged off. “There are more than two sides in a war, Miss Katara.”

* * *

After some tea, Iroh gave Katara a bread roll out of his own supplies. She argued that she couldn’t take it and that food was too precious. Iroh insisted that she must eat if she was going to accompany them to Omashu.

“She’s _not_ coming with us to Omashu!” Zuko protested.

“Oh?” Katara looked at him indignantly. She hadn’t _actually_ been planning to travel with these people—they were firebenders, after all, and more importantly, they were Fire Nation royalty who’d hunted her and Aang across the world. But this snotty prince wouldn’t get to be the one who told her so.

After all, if he _really_ didn’t want her to come with them, then _why had he broken her out of prison_?

She had been careful not to let on that she knew, and he gave no clue that he believed she thought otherwise. He thought his secret was safe.

Katara had been _incensed_ when she saw Zuko come out of the alley her savior had disappeared into. Her pride was hurt, and all her opinions about Zuko were unravelled. He used to be _angry ponytail guy_ , then he was _angry ponytail prince_ , and now he was just… she didn’t even know. He was still angry, assuredly, but he wasn’t a prince and even the ponytail part wasn't true anymore. And as far as she could tell, he wasn’t hunting Aang anymore, either.

It was so easy to just put people in the box they seemed to fit. But now Zuko didn’t fit anywhere, and Katara didn’t know if the problem was with him or her boxes.

When Zuko had arrived in a warship at the South Pole all those weeks ago, hands aflame, and demanded that they hand over the Avatar, he reminded her of another day so similar. The day that warships under a different flag arrived, full of soldiers, demanding the last waterbender.

But Zuko hadn’t killed Aang. And now he’d saved Katara’s life, and as much as she desperately wanted to continue to hate him and make life simpler for herself, she knew that she couldn’t hold on to her boxes forever.

She took the roll from Iroh and thanked him sincerely. “I’d love to come with you to Omashu.”

Despite her recent decision to give him a new slate, Katara couldn’t help but feel smug when Zuko scowled.


	6. To Get an Ostrich Horse

Zuko regretted allowing the waterbender to join them within the first hour of their journey.

The first order of business, Uncle told them, was to decide whether to travel on foot or not.

Katara’s brow furrowed. “Are there other options?”

Ah, yes, she exclusively travelled on allegedly extinct sky bison.

“The Earth Kingdom has many and varied forms of transportation,” Uncle replied. “Among them camelephants, beetles, and—to the musically inclined—badgermoles!” He said _badgermoles_ like some people said _surprise!_

Katara looked uncertain at these options. None of them much appealed to Zuko, either. “We need an ostrich horse,” he said. Then he glanced—glared, really—at Katara. “Or _two_.”

He’d hoped the barbed comment would draw a reaction from her. Maybe if she got angry at him or was reminded of how horrible she thought firebenders were, she’d go away and travel alone.

Instead, she offered a small, pleased smile. Almost smug. What did she have to be smug about? She was separated from her friends, on the losing side of an endless war, traveling with sworn enemies. Zuko bristled.

They packed their belongings. These consisted of a tea set of mysterious origins (Zuko decided that the spirits must provide Uncle with an endless supply of tea drinking necessities), three bedrolls (which Uncle had procured while Zuko was on his covert mission the night before), and Zuko’s covert mission supplies (his dao swords and some black clothes unknowingly donated by a homeowner down the street).

Katara offered to carry the bedrolls, even though none of the supplies belonged to her. Uncle helped secure them to her back, then took several minutes to position the pieces of his tea set into a bag with the greatest care. Zuko huffed at them to hurry up already.

Once assembled, they headed toward the center of Gaoling.

Zuko had been here once before, on his search for the Avatar. The perimeter of the state was populated by only the wealthiest and the poorest people in the Earth Kingdom, but as one neared the center, it evened out into moderate middle-class living. A bustling marketplace was at the very center.

Uncle was inevitably distracted by pretty, shiny things, and Zuko dragged him away from at least four stalls full of merchandise they could no longer afford before they found a paddock of ostrich horses for sale.

The moment he saw the ostrich horses, Zuko groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

“What’s wrong?” asked Katara.

“We’re idiots,” Zuko said. “We don’t have money for food or clothes or lodging—”

“Or a unique one-of-a-kind miniature copper-brass Tsungi horn,” Uncle remarked sadly.

“—Let alone ostrich horses!”

Zuko groaned again and Uncle sighed.

Katara studied the paddock then turned back. “How much longer will it take on foot?”

“Double the time,” said Zuko. “Which means double the food, double the water, double the nights outside…”

As he explained the situation, Zuko’s mind was already hours ahead. They would sleep in the alley for one more night. After midnight, when Katara and Uncle were asleep and most night watchmen were starting to get tired, Zuko would sneak back to the market and steal the ostrich horses.

But how would he explain their sudden appearance to Uncle and Katara? He felt sure that his uncle wouldn’t question the acquirement. His eyes would cloud with disappointment, but he’d still climb aboard the animal.

Zuko was sure that Katara, however, would not be so compliant. Zuko had a terrifying vision of her with her hands on her hips, getting right in his face, and lecturing very sternly about theft and honesty and how he should respect people’s private property. No, Katara wouldn’t stand for it.

The thought flipped. Of course Katara wouldn’t stand for it! In fact, she’d probably refuse to use the ostrich horses outright, and then she’d be forced to travel alone.

“Look, we should probably just leave and…” he began. But when he looked up, Katara was not there.

“She’s quite a girl,” said Uncle, looking appreciatively in the direction of the paddock.

Zuko scoffed. Then he followed his uncle’s gaze. “What the spirits is she doing?”

Katara appeared to be having a ditsy, over-animated conversation with the young merchant in charge of the paddock. Zuko tried to catch what they were saying.

“You see, Po” Katara said in a tone that sounded like she was confiding something, “my brother and I really need to get our Uncle to Omashu. Like, _desperately_. He’s gone totally—” here she twirled her finger around her temple. She and the merchant glanced over to Uncle Iroh.

Uncle obediently began sniffing his elbow.

Katara licked her lips and continued. “And the closest doctors for that kind of thing are there, you know, Po. And I swear by the spirits if we don’t get him all right and sorted before Aunt Paima’s birthday I think she’ll join the Fire Nation out of spite and then who knows where we’ll be, right, Po?”

The merchant, a simple-looking man around Zuko’s age, blinked at her. “Right, erm… what can you offer for them, ma’am?”

Katara stuck her tongue out in concentration and fished around in her clothes. After a few moments, she held her hand up triumphantly and said, “Aha!”

She held out something to the merchant. Zuko couldn’t believe it. All this time—all those days in prison—and she’d managed to keep money?

He frowned at her hand. “That’s only half what I normally charge, ma’am. I’m sorry, I’d love to help, but I can’t just give away perfectly good animals.” He did look sorry.

Katara made a horribly exaggerated disappointed face and sighed. “Oh dear, I’m afraid that’s all we have. If _only_ there was an ostrich horse that only cost this much.”

The merchant’s expression brightened. “Actually, there is!”

Katara practically melted in happiness. She followed the merchant to the paddock, alternatively thanking and praising “Po”.

Zuko and Uncle crept closer to keep up with the conversation.

“This here’s Neng,” the merchant said, patting the flank of a tethered ostrich horse. “I haven’t been able to sell her because of a _little_ issue she has with her hearing, but I think she’ll suit your needs just fine.”

Katara continued her blithering act as she gave the merchant her money and thanked him profusely.

It all looked like a very civil, if a bit air-headed, exchange.

Then Katara ditsied herself to the paddock gate and flung it open to go retrieve her purchase.

Unlike Neng, most of the ostrich horses were unrestrained in the paddock. In the mere five seconds it took for Po to cry, “ _No!_ ” and reach the gate, a dozen ostrich horses had bolted through and disappeared into the streets.

Shouting and crashing erupted from the marketplace, presumably the stray ostrich horses galloping through stalls and destroying merchandise.

The merchant chased after them, pure horror etched across his face.

Zuko watched, dumbfounded, as the marketplace erupted in chaos. People were screaming and fleeing the streets, throwing purses and possessions to ward off freedom-drunken ostrich horses. Colorful banners were knocked over, entangling human and steed without discrimination. Pottery was broken and glass shattered.

A small hand slipped into Zuko’s, distracting him from the commotion. Katara held the halters of two ostrich horses. “Let’s go to Omashu,” she said, grinning.

Apparently thievery is not an efficient waterbender deterrent.


	7. Of Tea and Tears

Katara, as she always did, woke at sunrise.

She lay still in her bedroll at first, looking at the rose-colored sky and trying to form a logical argument in favor of getting up.

Her muscles were sore from hours of travel the day before. It turned out that riding ostrich horses was much more difficult than it looked, and to her infuriation, Iroh and Zuko managed to stay on all day while she’d fallen off three times. Granted, one of those times _was_ Neng’s fault—the poor deaf thing made no response when Katara shouted _ditch!_

The three of them took turns riding and walking, and the rough terrain kept conversation to a minimum. Iroh asked Katara some questions about life in the South Pole, but she had kept her answers brief and vague. Although she liked the old man, she didn’t yet trust him enough to divulge information about her homeland.

All that aside, she _had_ to get up. Now. As in, right now.

But her bedroll was so warm, and the air was so cold, and what would she do anyway? She didn’t have the boys to look after now, and there was no food to cook or clothes to wash or Appas to load.

Thick sorrow welled up in her throat. She missed Sokka so much. Aang, too. Were they in Omashu yet? Would they wait for her there or move on? She wouldn’t blame them if they kept moving—after all, there was only so much time before the Comet—but it might take months for her to catch up with them.

 _I have to get up. For them._ This at last got her moving. She crawled out of her bedroll, which she’d set up inside the trees for privacy. Iroh and Zuko were just visible in a clearing nearby.

To her surprise, they were already awake and moving about.

Iroh beamed at her as she approached. “Good morning, Miss Katara!”

Katara rubbed her face, trying to wake herself up. “Um… good morning to you, too.”

“Would you like tea?” he asked, holding out a steaming cup.

She accepted it with mild bewilderment. The warmth sent some life in her sleep-chilled body. “Thank you.”

“I’m afraid we didn’t manage to catch anything to eat,” Iroh said.

Zuko, who was tying the ostrich horses to a tree, presumably after taking them to the stream for water, huffed angrily.

Iroh nodded at him. “Yes. Apparently neither of us possesses a gift for fishing.”

They’d already made tea _and_ gone fishing? Did firebenders even sleep?

Katara swallowed some tea and found it was very good. She had never quite gotten the hang of making tea while traveling with Sokka and Aang. It tended to be too weak or turn bitter, and she could never drink it at the right temperature. Iroh’s tea was rich and warm and spread pleasant tingles through her body.

After a few more sips, she felt her brain start to clear. “There are fish in the stream?”

“Plenty,” said Iroh. “The problem is that they seem quite reluctant to come _out_ of the stream.”

Katara smiled at him. “I might be able to help with that.”

***

She managed to catch four small fish using waterbending. Iroh was enthralled by her process, and asked if her whole tribe fished this way.

Katara looked away as she skewered the fish. “No. I’m the only one who really can, you know.”

Iroh blinked. “You can’t mean that you are the only waterbender in the South Pole,” he said.

Katara slowly exhaled. “I am.”

Iroh shook his head in disbelief. Katara frowned at him, mystified by his surprise. “Surely you knew,” she said. _It was your people who did it, after all._

“I did not know,” Iroh said. His voice held real sadness. “I’m very sorry, Katara.”

She stood sharply and turned away, lifting the fish skewer so they could see. “We should go cook these. Don’t want to let all the sunlight go to waste.”

Zuko took the stick without a word. He held it out in front of himself at a distance.

Katara watched, slightly confused. _What’s he…_

A short blast of fire hit one of the fish, cooking it instantly and charring the outside black. The scent of crisped meat wafted toward her.

Something twisted in Katara’s stomach. That… that was firebending. He had _cooked_ a fish— _her_ fish—with firebending. Now that she thought about it, Iroh had probably made the tea with firebending as well.

Images flooded her mind unbidden. The glint of a sword as it was unsheathed. The cruel smile on a firebender’s face.

Red soaked snow and the smell of burnt hair.

As Zuko raised his hand to roast the next fish, Katara fled.

* * *

Zuko watched the waterbender stumble through the trees toward camp. She must have forgotten something. It looked urgent.

“What’s wrong with her?” he muttered.

Uncle’s eyes following the retreating figure, too. He didn’t respond, only shook his head with a look of deep sadness in his eyes.

Zuko finished cooking the fish, and they both returned to the campsite. They had already packed their few belongings, so the only evidence of their presence was a circle of ash where their fire had been and the ostrich horses. No waterbender.

Zuko stuck the fish stick into the soft ground and scanned the area. “Katara?”

There was no answer. Only a muffled sound like a whimper or a sob. When Zuko approached, he saw the shaking blue form huddled behind a tree. “Katara,” he said again, trying to soften his voice this time.

She raised her head, revealing red-rimmed eyes, and glared at him. “Leave me alone!”

Zuko drew back, unsure what he should do. On one hand, there was nothing appealing to him about trying to comfort a crying girl, particularly not when that girl was his enemy. On the other hand, he felt obligated to do _something—s_ imply because they needed to start traveling again as soon as possible and not sit around crying. No other reason.

Uncle must have followed him, and he placed a reassuring hand on Zuko’s shoulder, motioning for him to stay nearby. He went close to Katara and lowered himself to the ground. His tone was gentle and undemanding as he said, “May I ask what is troubling you, child?”

Katara breathed a few times, then wiped her eyes on her sleeves and lifted her head. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t know what came over me.” She rubbed her eyes and stood. “I’m fine. We should get moving soon.”

Uncle made his _concerned_ face. “If you’re truly feeling up to it, we can travel, but it’s never good to let old wounds fester, Miss Katara. The pain of exposure is far easier to bear than the ache of infection.”

Katara’s breathing quivered. Her hands migrated to her throat, where her blue necklace rested. _Her mother’s necklace_ , Zuko remembered. There was another there now, too—this one shaped like an icicle.

Her eyes flicked to him, and he looked away. Why couldn’t he stand to hold her gaze?

“The Fire Nation killed my mother,” she said quietly.

As she said it, something in Zuko snapped. His Agni Kai, his banishment, Azula’s betrayal—they must have been building inside him so that at this moment, he felt something like… empathy.

He met her eyes. “That’s something we have in common, then.”

And so, while looking into her teary eyes, he was watching at the very moment her heart softened.


	8. The Swamp, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was turning out a lot longer than I expected, so I decided to go ahead and post the first 1000 words now, and hopefully the rest will be finished later this week. Thank you to all you beautiful people who left Kudos and Comments. You truly are the best.

And so the days passed. They continued traveling northwest, diverting their route slightly so they could stay close to the stream for as long as possible. They had no map and no compass, relying on the stars for navigation just like they had done on Zuko’s ship.

After that first day, Katara woke at sunrise along with Zuko and Uncle and went to the stream to fish and wash. When she returned, Uncle would give her tea and she would give him the fish. She insisted that they cook the fish over a fire-pit, and got very huffy when Zuko argued that firebending was faster. She said something about impatience and spoiled princes, and he got so flustered he didn’t have a reply.

In the end, she got her way, leaving Zuko annoyed and confused as to how exactly he had lost that argument.

During that first week, Zuko learned several things about their tag-along waterbender. First, no matter how self-sufficient he and Uncle were, she was not capable of simply letting them take care of themselves. She just _had_ to collect firewood or wash clothes or assemble the bedrolls.

The second thing he learned was that under no circumstances could he say anything serious or practical before she had her tea. Kind, soft-spoken words in the mornings only. Basically, Zuko had to shut up.

Lastly, Zuko had never met someone who talked about their family as much as Katara did. Everything was Sokka this, and Bato that. Uncle seemed fascinated by all that she had to say. He asked about her family, her culture, and—to Zuko’s irritation—her adventures with the Avatar.

She was currently rattling on and on about “Aang” and something to do with elephant koi. And… Umami? Origami?

Zuko kept his eyes fixed to the horizon while he walked. He prayed they would reach Omashu soon so that he could finally have the quiet he needed to think. For so many years, his purpose had been to please his… the Fire Lord… but now that was impossible. Even during his banishment, he’d had the spark of hope that was the Avatar, and that hope had given him a purpose. Now he had no hope and no direction.

Katara’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, like it often did. “What about your adventures, Zuko?”

“My… adventures?”

Katara raised an eyebrow, a wry look he hadn’t seen her make yet. “You know… while you chased the Avatar around the world? Are you telling me that you never did _anything_ interesting, went on any field trips, saw any cool places…”

She trailed off, presumably after seeing Zuko’s scowl. Zuko looked away, knowing he’d made her uncomfortable. “I was… preoccupied,” he muttered.

There was a tense pause.

“Um… Uncle Iroh,” Katara said, breaking the silence. Zuko flinched at the word _Uncle_. “You mentioned that you’d visited the North Pole before. I mean, before the whole…” Here she gestured her hands wildly, vaguely indicating Zuko, herself, Iroh, and possibly the sky. “Yeah.”

“Yes, I did visit the North before the whole—” Uncle made a similar, albeit less flailing, gesture. “I was a general at the time, come as part of a peaceful embassy during Azulon’s reign. During my short time there, I learned many techniques from the waterbending masters that brought a whole new dimension to my own bending.”

“You were able to _firebend_ using _waterbending_ techniques?” Katara’s tone was incredulous. Zuko agreed.

“There is much that the nations could learn from each other, if we tried,” Uncle said. “It is important to draw wisdom from many different places. If you take it from only one place, it becomes rigid and stale.”

Katara nodded slowly. “That makes sense. Sokka and I have learned so much by traveling with Aang. There are so many things I wish I’d known about the world growing up in the South Pole.”

Uncle got that twinkle in his eye that usually made Zuko groan. “Water is the element of change, Katara. Your people are capable of adapting to many things. They have a deep sense of community and love that holds them together through anything.”

Katara beamed.

“Fire,” Uncle continued, “is the element of power. The people of the Fire Nation have desire and will, and the energy to drive and achieve what they want.”

“But fire and water don’t work together,” Zuko said. “Fire dissolves water, and water dampens fire.” 

“Yes,” said Iroh. “But fire can also boil water, and water can show fire its path. As with every element, and every relationship, there is potential for light and darkness. Find balance, and the bond will be stronger than ever.”

Uncle's eyes stayed fixed on Zuko while he said this, and Zuko had to look away. After a moment, Uncle continued.

 _“_ Earth is the element of substance. The people of the Earth Kingdom are diverse and strong. They are persistent and enduring.”

Katara looked enraptured at this point. Zuko fought the urge to roll his eyes. Finally, Uncle had someone young and eager enough to sit at his feet and absorb all of his tea and old-man wisdom. The person he’d always wished Zuko would be.

“Air is the element of freedom. The Air Nomads detached themselves from worldly concerns and found peace and freedom. Also, they apparently had pretty good senses of humor!”

Katara giggled. At this point, Zuko _did_ roll his eyes. Ugh, why did girls have to _giggle_ like that?

“That sure sounds like Aang,” she said. “He really resists things like plans and schedules—which drives Sokka mad sometimes.” Her tone softened. “Personally, I think traveling with Aang has changed my life forever. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to exactly the way things were before.”

Zuko tripped over a stone and cursed.

“Ah. I believe it is my turn to walk,” Uncle said.

Katara reached over and placed a hand on his knee. “No, I’ll walk for a bit.” She dismounted and patted the ostrich-horse’s neck. “Here, Neng. Zuko’s going to ride you for a bit now.”

Later, Zuko didn’t remember mounting the deaf ostrich-horse or the next few hours of riding. Katara had finally stopped talking—or maybe his brain had just started to register her voice as background noise—and now his mind was spinning. With thoughts of himself, thoughts of home, and especially thoughts of this strange little waterbender walking beside him.

 _I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to exactly the way things were before_.

_The Fire Nation killed my mother._

_Water is the element of change._

And Zuko realized that for some reason, he was scared of her.


	9. The Swamp, Part 2

"It looks like the terrain is changing up ahead," Katara said.

Iroh was walking now. After letting Katara take his turn for a few hours he had insisted that she let him walk. _A man my age needs all the exercise he can get!_

Zuko peered at the horizon. "It looks like a swamp."

"Can we go around?" Katara asked. She had never seen a swamp before, but she'd heard stories of mud, cat-gators, and bugs with needle-like mouths that sucked your blood. No thank you.

Zuko, who had been in a grumpy mood all day, cursed again. "That will take _hours_."

Uncle Iroh stroked his beard. "The more pertinent question is—should we go through?"

"That's the exact same question," said Zuko.

Katara desperately wished she had a scathing comment to shoot back at him, but her sarcasm ability was limited. How could he bear to be so scornful of his uncle? As far as Katara could tell, Iroh was the only member of the Fire Nation royal family who didn't have serious mental issues. In fact, she was growing very fond of the old man. He was kind and gracious, and he spoke in gentle words about elements, balance, and the wonder of tea and Pai Sho

As they drew closer, it became apparent that the swamp was so large that it might take an entire day to travel around.

"There is a strong spiritual energy here," Iroh said thoughtfully. "Perhaps this will be a learning experience."

"Great," said Zuko in a deadpan. "I was just thinking that I missed Spirit Theory class back at the academy."

Katara carefully held in a snicker.

*

It turned out that the dense vines of the swamp slowed their pace considerably. Zuko used his dao swords to hack through, and Katara trudged along behind him, holding the reins of Neng and Wang's bridles to guide them through the vines.

She couldn't quite decide what the worst part about this place was. It could be the humidity. Her hair was huge and sticking to everything. Or the mud. Honestly, if her shoes were gone, she might not even be able to tell, since they were totally filled with swamp sludge.

Hours later, Katara knew exactly what the worst part of this place was. "Tui's fins!" she said, slapping her arm at the now-familiar bite.

"Is there _any_ way to get rid of things?" she cried, flailing her arms in a circle in an attempt to disperse the tiny bugs.

"Minnowsquitoes?" Iroh said. "Not really."

"Easy for you to say," Zuko said. "They're not bothering you at all!"

Up ahead, Zuko was swiping at his face with the backs of his arms, since his hands were occupied with the swords. He chopped away another clump of vines, which spurted greenish swamp juice in his face, causing him to cough and splutter.

"Uncle Iroh," Katara said. "I've been wondering…" She paused, trying to sort through was she was thinking. "Do you feel like this place is almost… alive?"

Iroh patted Zuko on the back absentmindedly. "Undoubtedly."

Zuko groaned and raised his eyes to the sky. "Spirits _above_ , Uncle."

"The spirits _below_ are the ones we should be worrying about, nephew."

Zuko glared.

Just then, something cold slithered by Katara's ankle. She froze,, heart creeping into her throat. "Guys… there's something in the water."

"Spirits, yes, we know," Zuko said, rolling his eyes.

"No, I mean—" Before she could finish her sentence, her legs were yanked out from under her and she lost contact with the earth.

She felt, rather than heard, her own screams as she flew through damp air and dripping vines. She caught the glint of steel—probably the daos—and then the whole world blurred and the coil around her ankles released.

If not for the softness of the ground, Katara was sure she would have been gravely injured when she hit. As it was, she landed with a muffled splash.

The buzzing of swamp insects and her own nervous breathing felt all too quiet after the light banter between her and her companions. The eerie atmosphere became even stronger as a white fog started creeping over the ground.

Katara rose slowly to her feet. "Iroh? Zuko?" she called, scanning her surroundings. Surely she couldn't have been thrown _that_ far.

She bent the water and humidity out of her clothes for probably the hundredth time that day, trying to decide whether to keep moving or stay put. She had no idea which direction she'd come from, and no seafarer's knowledge of the sky and winds to know which course to take.

In the end, the minnowsquitoes made the decision for her. It was unbearable to stand still in this horrid place, so she randomly chose a direction and started splashing through the muddy water. As she walked, the fog drew in close and thick around her legs.

A light sound broke through the monotonous droning of minnowsquitoes.

"Who's there?" Katara called, picking up pace to move toward the noise.

No reply. The sound was soft and bright—and oddly familiar.

As she came around a thick clump of vines, she saw a figure—a woman with dark hair falling in curls around her shoulders, dressed in blue.

_Mom._

Katara lunged forward, then quickly pulled up short. It wasn't her mom. It wasn't… anyone. The figure wasn't quite… there.

Was she hallucinating? Katara crept closer, trying to make out the face. The figure—the not-person—was doing something with her hands, like chopping or washing.

The person was… the person was… Katara?

She had many chances to see her own reflection on the journey, but surely that was her face, and her eyes. The not-her's features were harder, the cheekbones more prominent and brow more defined. She looked… so much like her mother.

And that tune. _That's Gran-gran's cooking song. Something about spices and herbs and whale-blubber._

_Is this a spirit? Is it trying to show me the future?_

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of movement and ducked behind the vines, heart in her throat, holding a strip of water out defensively.

But it wasn't the vine monster, only Zuko. Katara relaxed and stepped out again, letting the water return to the mud.

"Oh, Zuko, it's only you. I…"

But Zuko wasn't Zuko. He was a fog-person, like the humming Katara. He was dressed in Fire Nation red, his days strapped to his back. His hair was pinned up by a gold headpiece, making him look… younger, somehow.

Not-Zuko's eyes were fixed on Not-Katara's back as he moved, slowly and deliberately toward her.

Something about the determination in his gaze gave Katara pause.

This scene—these figures—were from the future, be it real or imagined. Maybe very far in the future. Definitely after the comet. The war.

One way or another, in this scene they were enemies again.

And post-war Katara had no idea that the prince of the Fire Nation was armed and right behind her.

_Look behind you_ , Katara thought, trying to will her image-bearing vision to turn.

Zuko was an arm's length behind now. He smirked maliciously as he reached toward Not-Katara's shoulder.

Katara waited for what she knew would happen. Zuko would firebend, and a harsh duel would ensue. Unless a lot had changed in the future, Katara knew she could beat him, but somehow that didn't make her feel any better about the scene.

_I guess I've softened more than I thought I had._

She tensed, waiting—knowing— _watching._

Zuko grabbed post-war Katara's arm and spun her around…

Straight into his arms.

"Zuko…" the figure murmured, gazing into his face.

And then they kissed.

* * *

After the swamp monster tossed Katara into the swamp, it turned its attention to Zuko—or more specifically, to his swords.

He dodged and spun, but the vines kept creeping around his ankles, and no matter how any he hacked off, more replaced them.

"Put down your swords, Zuko!" Iroh called. He stood on the sidelines, incapacitated by the sentient vines, although they weren't acting aggressively toward him.

Zuko sliced through another attack. "This thing will kill me! Are you crazy?"

"It might not!"

"Why do I even ask anymore?"

The vines held him up to his knees now. He swung at them with his left sword, but one reached up and wrapped around the hilt. He tried to wrench it back, but the vines didn't give.

"Let go, nephew!"

Yet Iroh knew his nephew, probably better than anyone in the world, and he knew that Zuko would never let go. All of Zuko's connections to his home were lost, and his hope of ever returning gone with them. His daos, at least, were a familiar part of him. They had been his since he forged them with Master Piandao, through the loss of his mother and his banishment. As far as Zuko could see, they were the only part of him that hadn't yet been yanked away when he'd lost his honor.

Iroh knew this. Zuko knew it, too, although he could never verbalize it so well, so he didn't let go as the monster tossed the sword, and Zuko with it, through the swamp.

* * *

_What is this?_ Katara thought as the scene before her dissolved back into the fog.

Was she going crazy? Maybe the fog had hallucinogenic properties. But it had been so real. The fog-figure had really looked like her, and although she hated to admit, the other had looked like Zuko.

But her original hypothesis that the scene was a vision of the future, somehow shown to her by the swamp's spiritual presence, had to be wrong. It couldn't be the literal, actual future.

There was no _way_ that she and Zuko would ever…

Would ever _what_?

Would ever kiss? Would ever be in a relationship? _We can barely stand being enemies. Even if things were different—if we weren't on opposite sides of a war—that would never happen._

Right?

The pinch of a minnowsquito on her forehead brought her back to reality.

_Right, Katara. Let's worry about your hallucinations later. Focus on what you know is real_. _That means finding Iroh and Zuko and getting to Omashu as quickly as possible._

Some time later, she found Iroh and the ostrich-horses, kneeling beside Zuko, who was lying still against a tree.

Katara jogged the last few steps to them, sloshing through the muck. "Iroh! What's wrong? Is he okay?"

Iroh looked up at her, relief in his eyes. "Ah, Katara, I'm glad you found us. Zuko is fine, only unconscious."

Katara knelt beside him, studying him for signs of injury. His breathing looked fine, and his pulse was strong—both very good. Although there was a sizable welt forming beneath his new layer of short hair, he looked uninjured. She turned back to Iroh. "How long has he been out?"

"I'm not sure. He was thrown by the monster a quarter of an hour ago, and I only found him just now."

Okay, probably no reason to worry, as long as he woke up soon. Katara hesitated shortly before gently shaking Zuko's shoulder. "Come on, Zuko. It's time to go."

He groaned and tenderly prodded his head. "Nngh. What's going on?" His eyes settled on Katara's. "Is this a dream?"

Katara felt her face grow hot and chided herself. There was no reason to blush. "You were knocked out," she said coolly.

Zuko sat up slowly, wincing a bit as he did. "Uncle, why do you have my swords?"

Iroh looked away, either sheepish or ashamed. "Ah," he said. "I thought it might be safer for us if they stayed sheathed for the time being."

Zuko's face was impassive. "I'd like them back."

"Of course, nephew." Iroh handed the sheathed swords to Zuko, who strapped them back on.

"You should be careful," Katara told him. "You might have a concussion, so you'll want to take it easy for the next few days. I know we're still traveling, so there's only so much you can do, but try—"

" _I don't need your help_ ," Zuko hissed, in a tone Katara had never heard before. She drew back, stunned.

Zuko looked into his lap. "I think it might be best if I travel to Omashu alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, hope you enjoyed the rest of this chapter! This one's 2000 words to make up for the measly little one I posted a few days ago.
> 
> I'm thinking of this story sort of like a rough draft. I plan to write all the way to the end, then immediately go back and rework the whole thing. (Sidenote: I'm like 60% sure that this story will have a sequel). Anyway, this gives you guys a super cool opportunity! Any comments and feedback you give, I'll be able to take into consideration not only as I continue to write, but also for when I go back and edit. Basically what I'm saying is, keep the feedback coming!
> 
> -Awnestee


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